The class ended smoothly, if you ignored the underlying tension radiating from one corner of the room.
I dismissed them with a wave and a reminder:
"Quiz results will be up shortly. If you're curious before then, you're welcome to check your papers on your way out."
They surged forward like it was Black Friday. I didn't blame them. The anxiety in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.
I stayed near the desk, casually organizing my notes, but my eyes tracked one person only.
Lucian. He didn't rush. Of course not. He walked up last, hands stuffed into his pockets, that usual sleepy-eyed expression on his face—like none of this mattered.
But I saw it. The flicker of interest when I handed him his quiz.
Top score.
98%.
I had to fight the smile that threatened to tug at my lips. He wasn't perfect. He never was. But damn, he was close.
"You missed a sign on one equation," I said, tapping the red circle I'd made near the bottom. "But otherwise? Impressive."
He barely glanced at the mistake. "Right."
His voice was flat. Detached. Still wouldn't look at me. Still acting like this was just another Monday.
But his ears? Those ears—those ears betrayed him. A slow, soft flush rose to the tips of his ears, barely noticeable unless you were paying attention. And I was. Always.
Then came the twist I'd planned. The one I knew would make him squirm just a little more.
I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a small bowl. It was filled with little wrapped candies—bright metallic paper glinting under the fluorescent lights.
One by one, I handed them out to the top scorers.
"You got the second-highest. Well done," I said to one girl who had managed to score just behind Lucian.
"Nice work," I nodded at another guy, who grinned at me with a mix of pride and relief.
Then it was Lucian's turn.
I held out the last candy. The golden ticket. The first place prize. "First place," I said simply, locking my eyes with his for just a second longer than necessary.
He blinked, then looked at the candy like it was some kind of trap. His gaze shifted from the bright metallic wrapper to me, back to the candy. He hesitated for a split second.
I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. Was I joking? Was there a catch?
"It's not poisoned," I teased, my lips curling at the edges. "You earned it."
He took the candy. His fingers brushed mine as he did. Barely a second. Barely a touch. But it sparked something warm. Sharp. Immediate. My heart stuttered—just a little. I was used to keeping my composure. But him? Him, I didn't know what to do with.
"Thanks," he said, his voice soft. Not quite a whisper, but close. It was the kind of voice you only used when you were trying to keep something hidden—something fragile.
I didn't say anything. Just watched him walk out, shoulders stiff, head slightly down, that ridiculous piece of candy clutched in his hand like it meant something more than a meaningless gesture.
And maybe… maybe it did.
I stood there for a moment longer than I should have, staring at the empty door. The quiet lingered in the room, but my mind was still buzzing with the memory of his touch. Of the way his hand curled around that tiny thing like it held some kind of secret.
But no. No, I couldn't think like that.
I pushed it down, turned back to my desk, and buried myself in papers.
But the thing is… I knew that look. I knew that flush.
And for some reason, that tiny piece of candy felt like something far bigger. Like it was the start of something I couldn't control.